H Caine
by UnderxConstruction
Summary: Newly appointed Lt Stetler is in desperate need of a ballistic expert, since Calleigh has quit her job. Could the mysterious H. Caine be the solution to his problem? Just who is he? I own nothing. R/R plz Fem!Horatio
1. Chapter 1

H. CAINE

PROLOGUE

Lieutenant Rick Stetler sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes that little gesture would ease the migraine that was rapidly forming around his temples. No such luck.

_Damn it!_, he mentally cursed, tapping his fingers impatiently against the reception desk. He was waiting for a person, a person who was _late_ for their meeting; he hated untimely people. More than that, though, he hated not knowing who he was meeting with. He had no idea whatsoever of what to expect from this person, even if he figured he would be tall, dark haired and gifted with a questionable sense of humor, if not a even more disputable sexual appetite, just like his brother.

He sighed heavily. Okay, maybe he _had_ a couple of ideas concerning the bloke. Biased much? Well, after having known the brother…

He had worked for three years as CSI Level 3, Day Shift Assistant Supervisor, under Lieutenant Raymond Caine. He utterly despise the man, and with good reasons. First and most important of all, the bastard had pinched his girl, MDPD Homicide Detective Yelina Salas, making her his wife after he had gotten her pregnant. Second, not being content with that, he had started being unfaithful to her barely one year into the marriage; it was no secret he couldn't resist a pair of huge boobs or shapely legs, and Rick had often had to assist to his moves on their female colleagues, sucking it all up.

One of the bastard's favorite was Calleigh Duquesne, resident ballistics expert. The way the two of them used to flirt shamelessly on the clock was nauseating at best, and Duquesne seemed not to mind the fact he was a married man; she would giggle at every indecency her Lieutenant would whisper in her ear, rewarding him with one of her blinding smiles, and he would make sure to work every possible case with her, just the two of them, while Rick would be left in charge of training CSIs Level 1 Delko and Speedle.

Well, no more. The bastard got himself killed, gunned down during a case involving drug trafficking, subsequently breaking Duquesne's heart. Rick would swear the blonde had wept longer and harder at Caine's funeral that Yelina, his own wife, had. That had to mean something, right? Victory's sweet taste soon turned bitter, though. He was not able to hate a man to the point of wanting him dead, no matter what. He even felt sorry for Yelina. Well, a bit, anyway.

Barely a week after the whole ordeal, with Caine's killers behind the bars, Stetler got promoted to Lieutenant. The celebrations barely included a beer with Delko and Speedle, now CSIs Level 2, then… nothing. Well, nothing and paperwork. Getting promoted sucked big time, he had realized a month into his new role.

Then, another cold shower: Duquesne's resignation. He didn't see eye to eye with the Louisiana girl, sure, but she was a damn ballistics expert, if easily distracted; one of the finest in the whole US, he had to admit. Rumors had it that Caine had got her pregnant, too, before his dismissal, and that left newly appointed Lieutenant Stetler's team two members short, if he took into account his deceased former boss.

Yelina found him a decent young man, Ryan Wolfe, willing to be trained to become a CSI. Rick suspected she had meant that as a peace offering; he wasn't sure that evened the score between them, but he was so desperate, and, he had to admit, the Wolfe guy was so bright, that he resolved to feel grateful enough to the woman.

He still needed someone to work in ballistics, and Yelina couldn't be of any help there. It was probably desperation that made him search Caine's computer for names, so he was surprised when he actually found one.

H. Caine. Nothing more, nothing less. He had heard Raymond had siblings, but how many and of which gender he didn't know. He had never personally heard him talk about a H. Caine, but thinking about it, it shouldn't have surprised him: after all, Raymond was a self centered bastard.

Everything he found out about H. was that he (it couldn't be a she, not with that record!) had a degree in Physics and one in Chemistry, and was currently working on Biology. And the fact that there were icons of bombs and guns everywhere his name appeared seemed to indicate he was well versed with those two items. That was why he had resolved to leave a vocal message on his answering machine, simply telling him he had a job for him as ballistics expert there in the Miami Dade Crime Lab. Even the answering machine was impersonal, so that he really had no clue about the bloke's character.

But if his text message, _See you next Monday, H._, was any indication, H. Caine would soon become a pain in his ass.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 1: MEETING H

It was the typical racket of a suspect being taken in for questioning that snapped Rick out of his reverie. Annoyed, he looked around, trying to locate the source of such noise, which was doing nothing to alleviate his headache, so that he could determine whether he possessed the power of making them stop or, at least, diverting someplace else away from him.

There came a young woman, probably in her late twenties, pushing a huge Afro American man in front of her. It was he who was complaining so loudly, and as he neared the reception, Stetler could finally discern all his curses. He wished he hadn't.

***RICK'S POV***

Frank Tripp was following the duo, a couple of steps behind, smirking at the scene playing in front of him. I knew Detective Tripp to be very scrupulous while doing his job, and letting a woman conduct an arrest, much less having her push a suspect around, was very out of character for him. He had always helped Duquesne out, they were good friend. Really, who did not like Duquesne, apart from me?

If I knew Frank well enough, I couldn't say the same about his companion; I had never seen her around the Crime Lab, nor the Homicide Section. She had to be new.

With surprising force for a woman, she practically threw the bulky man over a plastic chair some feet away from where I stood. She turned towards Tripp, then.

-Would you mind watching him for a bit?-, she asked politely, despite her recent unkind gesture towards her prisoner. Frank chuckled, barking a –Sure!- almost as soon as the words had left her mouth. The young woman had a strange accent, and for a moment I had a flash of Duquesne's Southern lilt. It wasn't, though. The way she forced out the words was sharp, edgy, as if English was not her native language. No contractions, no particular fluency, her sentences where stiff.

As she approached me, I could take a better look at her. She was tall, a couple of inches under six feet, and slightly built, not that I could tell for sure: her clothes were so baggy that it was difficult to determine. She was wearing a pair of faded light blue jeans, a bit loose on the waist and with turn-up over a pair of yellow sneakers; her T-shirt was at least a size too big, and my guess was that it enabled her to keep the jeans low-rise without exposing her belly. I snorted to myself. Where did she think she was, high school?

She reached the reception desk; she put her left arm over its rim, much like I had done, and nodded curtly to me before turning her back on me, waiting for Paula to end her phone call and give her full attention. It was then that I realized she had red hair. It was sleek, and she wore it in a high ponytail; even if it was held by the elastic band, it reached well past her shoulders. The color was natural, I had no doubt about it; I had never seen such a beautiful shade of red, vibrant and slightly golden. It was fascinating.

Paula finally turned towards her; she asked the young woman what she could do for her.

-I believe Lieutenant Stetler was expecting to see me… oh, about half an hour ago. Do you know where I could find him?-, she demanded, casting a nonchalant glance to her watch. I cleared my throat, surprised she'd be looking for me. I had no other appointments, safe for the one with the infamous H.

-That would be me. -, I told her. She turned towards me, barely spared me look, not in the least startled or surprised. When she had decided I had passed her scrutiny, she extended her right hand for me to shake.

-I'm Caine. I'm sorry you had to wait for over half an hour, I had not foreseen an attempted robbery along my way. -, she told me as I grasped her hand. Her words were as frank as her handshake.

-Caine?-, I couldn't refrain from asking, the surprise and disbelief ringing in my own ears. The woman smirked knowingly, as if she was accustomed to people asking her _that_ and with that same tone of voice. I noticed then that she had nice lips, full and large; how would a real smile look like on her face?

-Yep. So, would you like for me to process the gun I found on that guy over there or is my job blown?-, she replied easily, sassily even, nodding to where her prisoner sat. I think I looked at her as if she had sprouted a second head. Surely my ears were playing tricks on me. She wanted to start working right away? With no presentation, close to no credentials and after having arrived late at our appointment?

-Rick, cut the girl some slack, will ya? She did a splendid job with this one, and she wasn't even armed. -, Tripp called for my attention. I stared at him, than at the still unnamed Caine beside me.

-May I at least tell you what happened, sir?-, she asked politely. Finally, she had started making some sense!

-That's a beginning. Frank, have Speed and Wolfe process whatever there is to process. -, I replied, blindly giving instructions to the Texan as I started leading H. Caine to my office.

-Will do!-, he barked after me.

She sat there, perfectly still, perfectly composed, seemingly unfazed by my hard stare. It was getting annoyed, especially because I found _myself_ not being able to sustain _her _stare. She had the brightest pair of light blue eyes I had ever seen, and they were completely focused on me, the way I talked, the way I addressed her, even the way I sometimes tilted my head slightly to one side to make a point. They were curious, alright, but that seemed so damn like a scrutiny.

She told me the whole story concisely and without stuttering once, not even stopping to regain some breath. She was driving here, obviously, and was waiting for the green ball when she had caught sight, glancing at the wing mirror no less, of something suspicious going on in a mini market along the street.

The reckless girl had wasted no time before exiting her car; she had barely parked it somewhat decently as to not draw attention on her, composed the 911 and tossed her phone to a passerby, ordering him to tell the speaker where they were and that there was a robbery going on at _Ben's_ before entering the shop.

The guy was alone, scared and armed. Not a good combination, but it could have been worse. He was standing behind the counter, near what she assumed to be Ben. Even if the dark man was hiding his gun, his nervousness and the old man's shakiness would have given away the fact that something was not right; anyway, she had approached the duo and cheerfully asked Ben for a packet of gums. Glad for the diversion, the owner of the shop had moved a feet away from the miscreant; that was then that she had lent forward and calmly asked the Afro American man to give her his gun.

She had proclaimed disarming him had been easy. The man was obviously shocked by the fact that she knew he was hiding a gun, and his hand shook as he raised it to menace her. A well placed blow and she had been the new owner of the firearm.

-You chose not to wait for back up. -, I said, not quite a question and not quite a statement. She nodded.

-Yes. The man was unstable, there was no telling what he would have done. -, she replied swiftly. She looked damn sure she'd done the right thing. Well, I was going to prove her wrong.

-You could have gotten killed, or worse yet, got somebody else killed. -, I reproached her, scowling at her.

-As long as nobody moved, they'd have been fine. I was the only real threat for him. -, she bit back, never missing a beat. At my raised brow, she elaborated further. –A pregnant woman, a couple of twelve-year old boys, an old man. _I _was the most dangerous there. -, she stated resolutely, blinking at me as if daring me to contradict her.

-You have no jurisdiction here, you were not on duty. -, I pointed out.

-So? I didn't fire a gun, I didn't even break one of his bones. -, she shrugged. Her nonchalance baffled me, and her comment on broken bones puzzled me even more. There were other ways to say she hadn't hurt the man. Damn, but she knew the rules!

Truth was, I had nothing against her. She had just pissed me off for arriving late, and, well, for being a woman. I loathed the thought of having another Calleigh Duquesne in my team.

-Listen, I understand I probably made you angry…-, she tried reasoning. I cut her off. –Probably?-, I taunted her.

-I definitely made you angry, but there's no need to bite my head off. I risked my life? Big deal! I'm here and breathing and definitely pissing you off. No one got hurt, so if you don't want anything to do with me anymore just say the words and I'll disappear. We'll pretend none of this ever happened, and you can even tell that bloke to get lost. -, she told me at a reasonable pace and in a no nonsense tone. Dammit, but she knew what buttons to press! There was no way I was letting that man go, and that meant I would have to at least question that irritating woman. Groaning inwardly, I sighed.

-If you are to work for me, can I at least know your name?-, I asked, a bit more tiredly than I would have liked. The woman in front of me grinned.

-H. Hermione "H" Caine. -

***CONTINUES***

So, what do you think? Is the twist acceptable or is it just crap? Let me know… and, oh! Who should I pair H with?


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 2: CHANCES

***FRANK'S POV***

Hermione Caine reemerged from Stetler's office about half an hour later. Smirking to herself, she winked at me, clearly not disturbed by the fact that the man himself was hot on her tail; she could probably feel his breath on her neck, I swear.

-Detective Tripp, assist Detective Caine as she takes his statement. -, Rick ordered me rather formally, nodding at the bloke sitting beside me. I nodded, and repressed a chuckle at Caine rolling her eyes after her rapidly retreating boss.

-Thanks, Frank, I owe you a beer. Know a good place where we can have one of them?-, she told me, smiling, hands coming to rest on her hips. I distinctly felt my ears turn pink. I was not accustomed to girls asking me out for drinks.

-I know a few. -, I replied gruffly, nudging the black man to make him stand, needing something practical with which to busy myself. Nodding in satisfaction, the girl's expression turned serious as she addressed her prisoner.

-Are you up for having a few words with us?-, she wondered, trying the determine his emotional state.

-Fuck you!-, he hissed though gritted teeth, trying with all his might to sound spiteful and intimidating. He looked like a sorry fool to me. Not at all intimidated, Caine stared at him long and hard, a smirk slowly forming on her full lips. _Full lips?_

-Yes, well, all in due time. Where to?-, she bit back, glancing at me to let me know I had the lead on that. Cool, I was getting tired of always being the sidekick.

I knew why Stetler didn't like Caine. Apart from the fact that she was a Caine, that is. The girl had it all: she was a Caine, she was a woman and she happened to be a beautiful one at that. I blushed a little at my own thoughts, hoping the girl in question wouldn't notice. To play it safe, I took a gulp of my beer. I had ordered a German one, Hermione was having Italian stuff.

-It's nice here. Didn't think places like this even existed in Miami. -, she commented while looking around the bar. I snorted. My ex wife hated the place, said it was too boring. The music was country style and light, so that conversation may flow easily.

-Yes, well, it gets a bit wild later. -, I tried to cover my slip up. I know she noticed, and I also knew I had not fooled her with that cheap remark, but she let me be. Sweet girl.

-So, tell me something about the team. -, she asked me after a while, sipping on her cold beverage. I shrugged.

-They're noisy. Nosy and noisy, but they're all good people. The most senior, apart from Stetler, is Speedle. He's got a twisted sense of humor, and an even more twisted sense of fashion, but apart from that, he's pretty decent. Very professional. -, I told her. She nodded appreciatively, probably making a mental note to stick with the guy.

-Then there is Eric Delko. They're like cat and dog, Speed and he, but they're friends. Stetler got an hard time, taming Delko. Don't get me wrong, he's good at what he does, but if he were as dedicated as he is with women, then he'd spend all his time at the Lab, and not out partying with a different girl every night. Must be the Cuban in him. -, I lashed. We'd stepped on each other's toes multiple times in the past, and I didn't exactly celebrate when I was partnered up with him, but we managed to get along well when we put our minds to it.

-The latest addiction to the team, apart from yourself, is Ryan Wolfe. Still don't trust the guy. Can't keep his mouth shut for the life of him, but he's got sharp eyes and from what I'm told, he's a pretty good CSI. -, I summarized. Hermione smirked.

-So I'm the only woman. -, she observed. –Now I see what Stetler's problem is. -, she chuckled. I must have made a face, or given her a funny look, because she hastily added: -He glared at me the whole time. I know what I did must have pissed him off, but keeping glaring at me for forty minutes? It was a bit too much, considering no one got hurt. -, she reasoned. I nodded, but otherwise kept silent, fearing I'd give something away. How could I explain to her that her brother had been an ass around the Lab, and especially towards Stetler himself? That he had even stolen his woman?

It was better that she kept thinking he had a problem with women. An in all honesty, had he not? Since he had ended things with Yelina, he had never gone out with another woman, to anyone's knowledge, and he was also known to have a dislike for Calleigh. It wasn't that he thought they couldn't take care of themselves on the job, quite the contrary in fact; he had always let Calleigh handle herself as she liked, and she had never disappointed him. No, I think he feared a romantic involvement between members of the same team; there, I had to admit, Cal had not been faultless. Again, we came back to Ray Caine.

-D'ya think I'm doomed?-, she asked me with a grin. Her light blue eyes, however, twinkled knowingly, as if she'd somehow guessed my thoughts. They were too damn alert, those eyes of hers, and they seemed to be able to see right through me. I must admit, I was a bit scared by then.

-Dunno. Ya might want to work on him a bit. -, I shrugged my shoulders, drowning the remnants of my beer. She imitated me, putting the glass down on the table with a loud _THUD_.

-Sure. I like a good challenge when I'm presented with one. I won't go down without a fight. -, she smirked, nudging my arm with her elbow. Somehow, that gesture made me smile. She was being very open with me, not at all intimidated by my size; I liked people who spoke their minds, but managed not to look nosy or self centered. She had the ability of talking freely without revealing much about herself, a difficult and rare skill to possess, especially for a woman. Don't get me wrong, the comment was not made to offend; it's just the way things are. Women talk; about themselves and about the others around them. And about actors. Ugh!

We talked some more, then a country band started playing some mere feet away from us. I half expected her to call it a night, but she surprised me once more with her next question.

-D'ya now howta dance?-, she slurred her words on purpose; there was no way she'd be wasted after a single beer. I stared hard at her, trying to determine whether she was serious or not. Well, she was not teasing me, at least. I nodded to her attire.

-You wanna dance in those?-, I asked, pointing to her baggy jeans. I knew for a fact that women needed a certain attire for a night dancing. Well, apparently, she didn't.

-What's wrong with what I'm wearing?-, she bit back, standing and twirling around to let me have a better look. Boy, I needn't that to tell she had a wonderful body. I wasn't sure dancing with her might be a good idea, I already felt my pants tightening in inappropriate places, but then thought, _what the hell?_ She was single, I was divorced and we weren't doing anything wrong.

She was a good dancer, I had to admit. It was easy to tell she had the rhythm in her blood, and was not afraid to let it show. She'd been a good challenge, God knew I had not danced in ages.

When I got home that night I breathed a sigh of relief. No slow songs had been played that night, and I had not made a fool of myself.

Hermione wasn't hitting on me, there was no way someone as young and beautiful would be interested in me. She was a sweet girl, though, and I had had a great time with her. Maybe she'd guessed I felt lonely, I don't know; I was just glad she'd decided to give me a chance to prove that I wasn't just a big, gruff Texan.

***CONTINUES***

Sorry for the long wait, yesterday I finally finished my tests for this school year. Yay me! I'm still unsure who to pair H with, but I think she'll have a fling with Frank… nothing serious, they'll just be friends with benefits… then who, Stetler, Eric, Speed, or Ryan? Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 3: HER STRENGTH

-I thought he was kiddin'. Pity he wasn't. –

Tripp chuckled, then patted Hermione's shoulder. She was sheeting, but did well in hiding it from everyone around her save for the Texan himself.

-Have you seen Ballistics, recently? It's a mess!-, she kept complaining quietly, putting her sunglasses on. Frank admired the well practiced move, briefly studying how well the shades hid her blazing eyes before answering.

-Can't say I have. I haven't been there in ages. –, he acknowledged her statement. –It's strange, though. Calleigh was a well organized person. She worshipped her lab. -, he added as an afterthought. Hermione snorted softly.

-Eric Delko made sure I knew that, thanks. -, she replied curtly. Frank raised a brow, opening the passenger door of his car for the woman. She nodded her thanks, but didn't enter yet. She crossed her arms over the door, obviously waiting for an answer.

-I'm sure it's not you. Delko just has an hard time accepting that someone'll have to replace Calleigh. He liked her. -, Frank explained, crossing his arms over his ample chest.

-Hey, I'm not here to replace anyone. _They _called me, not the other way round. -, she bit back. The man couldn't see her eyes clearly, but nevertheless he was sure they had grown darker and dangerous. Good thing those shades prevented her from glaring at him.

-I wonder what they're talking about. -, Ryan mumbled while watching the exchange between Tripp and the redheaded woman. Behind him, Eric snorted.

-She's complaining, I tell you. -, the Cuban replied with distaste. Speed smacked him in the back of his head.

-You haven't been very nice to her. -, he reproached him. Massaging the offended part, Eric said what he'd let the Caine girl understand as well.

-She ain't Calleigh. -, he sentenced seriously. Speed exhaled loudly, shaking his head.

-Cal resigned. Move on. -, he advised his friend. He should have know the Cuban was more stubborn than that.

-And whose fault is that? That bitch's brother's!-, Eric bit back, firmly refusing to see reason.

-Exactly. Her brother's. She's innocent. -, Ryan pointed out, just to unnerve the Cuban.

-She's not! She's Italian… the Caines must be with the Mafia. -, Eric accused his female colleague's family. This made Speed slightly angry.

-Eric, you're being illogical. Get real and go to work. -, he admonished his friend, stepping away from the window to resume his own work, Ryan close behind. Eric stood still until he saw Tripp's car speed away, then moved as well.

-It's plain stupid, I tell you. Armored trucks on a bridge? It's like an invitation for criminals!-, the driver addressed Hermione, who sat with her arms crossed over her chest next to the man. She nodded her head, her expression blank under the shades.

-Yes, John, it is. -, she replied somberly. The driver cast a quick glance in her direction, pleased with her answer.

-Glad someone still uses their brain…-, he muttered to himself. Then, aloud he asked: -What did you do to get assigned here?-

-You mean apart from the fact that I'm a woman?-, Hermione bit back, arching a perfect eyebrow. John smirked, delighted by the girl's dry sense of humor.

-Yeah, apart from that. Did you step on somebody's toes?-, he wondered.

-I'm new in town. -, Hermione tossed as an explanation. John nodded, satisfied with that.

They kept driving along the bridge, perfectly silent. Suddenly, tough, the rumble of a motorbike shattered the quietness in the passenger compartment. A dark Harley had come side by side with the truck. John snorted.

-It figures we have to deliver the drug when there's a show in town. Damn those bikes…-, John complained, but Hermione barely registered his words. Worried, she lowered the window and cautiously pocked her head out. Another biker was fast approaching, his gloved hand reaching for something inside his leather jacket; everything about him screamed bad news. Reacting fast, and mainly on pure instinct, Hermione drew out her gun and fired.

The thunder caused by her weapon almost concealed the muffled cries of her companion and a second blow, this time not from Hermione's gun. She spun around as fast as she could, weapon ready. As soon as John's lifeless body slid over the seat, she fired again. John's killer disappeared from sight.

-Dammit…-, Hermione cursed. The driver's body was too heavy to be removed; she reached for the steering-wheel, desperately trying to control the vehicle. As she steered to avoid hitting the guard rail to her right, the truck swayed noticeably, as if it had bumped on an obstacle. That wasn't the case, though; the young woman knew they had hit a tire, if not more. There was no way she'd be able to control the vehicle now.

Where the hell were those supposed to follow them? She had no time to mused over it; she extricated her slim body from the seat belt and gripped the roof. Pushing with her feet and pulling with her arms, she came to sit on the lower part of the window; she looked around to try and determine what the situation was.

Bullets were flying, but not from all the police cars behind her. The reason was easy to tell: the bikers were all mixed, good people and bad people in a single swarm. Shit, they had planned it well.

Hermione took in all that while meticulously singling out those who meant harm. She took care of those nearer to her, but bullets from behind the front lines kept coming her way, their hiss a bit closer to her ears as time went by.

It was the dangerous swaying of the truck, though, that convinced her to abandon the vehicle. She hoisted herself up on the roof, where she was an easier target. A bullet flew just below her left ear with a loud hiss. She replied with a few rounds of her own, but soon her ammunitions ended.

There was no other way out. As soon as the truck neared the guard rail, she jumped.

-Watch that!-, Ryan cried from the bank.

They saw Hermione propel her fall with a shove to the roof of the truck. When she reached mid air, she joined her arms and crunched, positioning her body as if she were diving.

Stetler noticed her movements were slow, deliberated, calculated even. She knew what she was doing, she was no prey of terror. Her wiggly body in an aerodynamic position, it took but a few seconds for her to scratch the water's surface.

Starting from his stupor, Stetler quickly began barking orders. –Rescue! Quick! Somebody call an ambulance!-

Despite his efforts, though, Hermione found herself swimming to the opposite bank, which was considerably closer to her. She had to rely on her own strength, just like always.

***CONTINUES***

Sorry for the long wait, I seriously went on holiday!

I'm still unsure who to pair H with, but I think she'll have a fling with Frank… nothing serious, they'll just be friends with benefits… then who, Stetler, Eric, Speed, or Ryan?

Let me know what you think!


End file.
